


A Christmas Tail

by siriusblue



Series: The King's Harlot [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mystrade Advent Calendar 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-17 00:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13065603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriusblue/pseuds/siriusblue
Summary: Lord Gregory Lestrade returns to King Mycroft's Yuletide court with a surprise. Pure Christmas fluff





	A Christmas Tail

**Author's Note:**

> Big, big love to Mottlemoth and Egmon73 for putting this Advent calender together. I'm so proud to be a tiny part of it

A CHRISTMAS TAIL

 

Written for the Mystrade Advent Calendar on Tumblr, for lavender_and_vanilla, egmon73, smmr089 who like the Medieval AU and a special thank you to daynaan who sort of gave me the idea in the first place. You are all truly wonderful.

 

Summary - Lord Gregory Lestrade, now the Warden of the North is absent from King Mycroft's court attempting to put down a rebellion. King Mycroft's only wish is that Lord Gregory makes it back for the Yuletide celebrations. Christmas Medieval Mystrade fluff.

 

Part of The King’s Harlot series on AO3

 

The Yuletide banquet was in full swing. The entirety of King Mycroft's court had been entertained by jugglers, singers and, of course, the Lord Of Misrule, and the Banqueting Hall was bedecked with holly, ivy and mistletoe.From the minstrel's gallery came the plaintive sound of a lute.  Prince Sherlock watched his brother who was conversing with the elderly Earl of Essex. The king had a strained, watchful expression on his face that had been there since news of the battle of Boroughfield had reached the court and Prince Sherlock had no idea how to distract him. There had been nothing in the report of the battle of the fate of the Warden of the North, Lord Lestrade, nothing to ease the anxiety of a lover left behind.

 

There was a sudden commotion outside and the doors to the Banqueting Hall were thrown open. A handful of knights marched in, still in full armour and filthy from days of unrelenting travel. Their leader, his silver hair unmistakable in the light from the cresset torches, knelt before the king and presented him with the bloodstained banner of the renegade Lord of the Western March. 

 

“Your Majesty, the rebellion is over,” announced Lord Gregory Lestrade.

 

King Mycroft's face lit up with pure joy, not for the welcome news, but for the sight of his beloved safe in front of him.

 

Prince Sherlock relaxed. His brother would be fine now.

 

“You and your men have my grateful thanks, Lord Gregory,” said the king in a carrying voice. “Go now and refresh yourselves. I will have private conference with the Warden of the North shortly.”

 

There were a few indulgent smiles at that last comment. The entire court knew of the real relationship between the king and Lord Gregory but maintained a polite fiction to outsiders who visited the court.

 

Lord Gregory kissed his sovereign's hands and left without comment.

 

In his chambers Lord Gregory was pleased to find his squire, Philip Anderson, who has drawn a bath for him and was in the process of unpacking Lord Gregory's saddlebags and laying out fresh clothing for him. He quickly divested his lord of the heavy armour and put it aside to be cleaned and have the dents knocked out of it, while Lord Gregory stripped off the rest of his clothing and sank gratefully into the hot water. The deep sword cut to his left arm stung, but he ignored it, just content to wallow in the steamy heat.

 

A soft noise came from the willow basket that Philip had placed next to the bed and Lord Gregory watched, amused, as Philip gently stroked the contents.

 

“How is he?” asked Lord Gregory.

 

“A bit unsettled, my lord. But he'll be fine. I'll see if I can find some scraps from the kitchen, he must be hungry.”

 

“Thank you, Philip. And I must get out of this bath before I fall asleep.” 

 

Lord Gregory got out, grimacing with distaste when he saw the colour of the water, dried and dressed himself in a fresh tunic of warm velvet, as Philip returned with a plateful of fresh chicken.

 

“The cook says there's a delegation arriving from Ireland tomorrow,” said Philip over the noise of something making short work of the chicken. “Everyone seems very excited about it.”

 

Even though Lord Gregory's heart had sunk to his boots at this news, he dredged up a smile.

 

“And so they should be, for they come to discuss the marriage of the king to their princess. It was contracted long before the old king died. I am surprised it has taken so long for them to come to arrange everything.”

 

“A royal wedding? That will certainly make the country happy,” agreed Philip. “Oh, “ and his face fell. “My lord…”

 

Lord Gregory shook his head, touched that his squire should feel sorry for him.

 

“I must go,” he said gruffly. “The king awaits. And I will tell him about how bravely you fought, Philip. I have no doubt you will be Sir Philip by the new year “

 

Philip looked proud enough to burst as Lord Gregory scooped up the willow basket and made his way to the royal chambers.

 

As he had hoped, once the guard has shown him in and he had made a pretence of bowing to the king, they were left alone and Lord Gregory wasted no time in taking King Mycroft into his arms and kissing him deeply, carding his fingers through his dark red hair.

 

“I missed you so,” murmured the king when the need to breathe made them break the kiss.

 

“Oh, my love,” whispered Lord Gregory. “All that time without the comfort of you in my arms, it was almost more than I could bear.”

 

“It is as well you returned when you did, my darling.” continued King Mycroft. “The Earl of Moriarty will be here this time tomorrow. Here to discuss something I neither need nor want.” he concluded bitterly.

 

Lord Gregory held him close, stroking his hair and the back of his neck, a tried and tested method of soothing his lover when he was upset or angry.

 

“We knew this day would come, Mycroft. The kingdom needs an heir, especially since your brother seems destined for the priesthood. And for that you must marry.”

 

King Mycroft sighed heavily.

 

“I know my duty. It does not mean I have to like it. Come to bed, my love, for tomorrow we must act as friends and sleep alone.”

 

“Before we do,” smiled Lord Gregory,”I have a Yule gift for you.” and he placed the willow basket in the hands of the king.

 

“What on earth…?” asked King Mycroft.

 

He lifted the tiny creature out, a chunky white pup with floppy ears and a pink, quivering nose.

 

“He's the runt of the litter,” explained Lord Gregory. “The huntsman at the traitor’s castle believed him to be deaf and therefore useless. I stepped in before he could drown it.”

 

A tiny pink tongue flickered out and licked one of King Mycroft's hands. Lord Gregory smiled at the pleasure in his love's eyes.

 

“He's beautiful,” breathed King Mycroft. He placed the puppy on the floor and the two men watched as he sniffed around, minute tail wagging ten to the dozen before he curled up on one of the embroidered cushions, nose to tail, and went to sleep.

 

“I have something for you also,” said King Mycroft shyly and he crossed to the bedside table, returning with a small velvet pouch which he handed to Lord Gregory, watching anxiously as his lover unfastened it and tipped the contents into his palm.

 

“I commissioned the finest goldsmith in London to make this,” said King Mycroft. 

 

Lord Gregory was stunned at the gift. It was a finely crafted ring, a ruby heart encased by two rampant boars, the coat of arms of the Lestrade family.

 

“This is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship, my love. But the ruby is a royal stone, is it not?” asked Lord Gregory

 

King Mycroft took the ring and slid it onto Lord Gregory's finger where it fitted perfectly.

 

“I may have to marry this Irish princess,” said King Mycroft in a voice that wasn't quite steady. “But I never want there to be any doubt who truly holds my heart. Yuletide blessings, my darling.”

 

“I'm blessed indeed,” replied Lord Gregory, taking King Mycroft's hand and leading him to the four-poster bed.

 

The End


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